


SATs

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [39]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, High School, Pre series, bad home dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 02:14:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3960559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam just wants to take his SATs, to care about his academics, to have a life. Dean echoes his father's perspective, and wants Sam to focus on what he sees as important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	SATs

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone--  
> Here's another old fic being moved from Tumblr.  
> Warnings: this is an examination of some not great home dynamics. There is (previous) injury, it is preseries, it mentions the SATs, Sam feels pretty alone, the brothers fight a bit.

Sam has fifteen fresh stitches in his side and he pulls out the paper-covered SAT prep book that he got from the school library.

His vision is a little blurry–mouthful after mouthful of whiskey to numb the pain will do that–but he does his best to review the material one last time regardless.

Dean looks disturbed. “Dude, you’re hurt. Go to sleep. You can’t take the test now anyways.” Sam doesn’t know if he imagines the triumph, the small satisfaction in Dean’s voice as he says that, as if keeping Sam from the SATs will keep him here, will make him forget how miserable this life is, will make him want to do as John says day in and day out rather than have dreams of his own. As if he could forget that, fifteen stitches from a ghost that targets teenage boys, earned on a hunt ordered by his father.

Sam just attempts to study harder, but he’s not processing much information. He supposes he will have to rely on all his prior review, on all the days at the library, the sleepless nights reading the prep book under the covers, straining his eyes in the dark because it’s the only free time he gets between training and hunting and research and regular homework. “I’m going,” he says, and he tries his hardest to sound firm.

“No you’re not,” Dean says firmly. “You’re gonna rest up so you can heal quick and get back into the hunt. You’ll be back in shape for the next one, I bet.”

Sam looks up and narrows his eyes, and his vision swims but he doesn’t let it show, just pretends he can see his brother clearly. “I’m going,” he says again. “This is my only chance until September. I’m going.”

Dean’s voice wavers. “I’ll call Dad. Tell him what you’re doing. You know he told you not to take that test. We can’t waste the money, you know that.”

Sam feels like throwing something, but the only thing he has is his book and he needs that. “You know I got the fee waived, and you know it was never about the money,” he growls. “It’s about keeping me here.”

“It’s about keeping us a family,” Dean snaps. “It’s about hunting, doing good and saving people and being part of this family, and why can’t you just do as dad says for once, huh?”

Sam closes his book. He’s not getting much out of it, anyways. “Maybe you’re right; it would be better if I slept,” he says quietly, his voice tightly controlled, so he lays down and rolls so he’s staring at the wall, grateful that his bead is positioned so he can do this without upsetting his stitches.

Dean tries to talk, makes two aborted attempts at Sam’s name before he stomps off, slamming the bathroom door behind him, eventually coming out to slip into his own bed.

Sam wakes up when the sun shines through the uncovered window the next morning. He dresses silently and doesn’t bother to eat. He leaves a note, saying only one thing: SATs.

Sam takes the SATs on a chilly spring Saturday morning, with fifteen stitches in his side and his head still a little fuzzy from the alcohol and the argument the night before. When he checks his scores on a library computer a few weeks later, he sees that he got a 1500, one hundred points from perfect, and he feels some sort of visceral pride that all his work paid off, that he can really do this. The feeling lasts until he makes it home and realizes that he has no one who will be proud of him in turn.


End file.
